


Safe Zones

by RoseThorn14



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia, BAMF Stiles, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Polyamory, Post teen wolf season 6, Walking Dead Season 7, Zombie Apocalypse, realistic fix-it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-13 01:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseThorn14/pseuds/RoseThorn14
Summary: It turns out all the crazy stuff that happened throughout Stiles life prepared him for the end of the world. All things considered, he was doing pretty well. The corpses served to take out many of the hunters that were threatening his friends and he was well equipped to deal with them.When the dead start walk, people start hiding, but the wolves finally get to run free.





	1. How the World Ended

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And The Wolves Are Coming (You'd Better Run)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631252) by [AsagiStilinski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsagiStilinski/pseuds/AsagiStilinski). 



> I am looking for a beta reader. If anyone wants to be it, please message me on my tumblr, rose-thorn-14.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I just want to warn people that I'm from Australia, so my grammar and spelling might be a bit different and a couple of my references and phrases might not be entirely American.
> 
> I update around every eight days.

It started when the dead started coming back to life. Not in the way you’re thinking. No, that wouldn’t happen until later.

 

There was a huge meeting of the Beacon Hills pack. All of their living allies had flown into town for their six-monthly strategy meeting to discuss the state of the hunter situation. Stiles and Scott stood side by side at the head of the long table everyone was crowded around. As always, they would be leading the meeting like they had ever since Stiles suggested these meetings after becoming Scott’s emissary. Derek, Argent and the Sheriff stood on Stiles’ left at their places down the long rectangular table that now occupied the McCall’s living room. Malia, Lydia and Liam stood on Scott’s right, opposite them and the rest of their allies stood along the sides or crowded around the back of the room opposite Stiles and Scott.

 

They had been discussing Monroe’s activity. Stiles had been keeping tabs on hunter activity from his place in the FBI – he’d been promoted three times in the last year and a half alone and he was close to being Scott’s dad’s boss already – and his information showed that hunter recruiting had slowed down over the last six months, which was definitely good news. However, Stiles (who had been learning magic over his past three years in the FBI) still couldn’t find Monroe in any of his tracking spells. Gerard must have taught her how to protect herself and Stiles knew that the only way he could properly track her was if he could obtain a close personal item or a body part like some of her hair or something.

 

Scott was pointing out where they’d last seen various groups of hunters on the map behind him when he was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell. All eyes in the room glanced in the direction of the door before snapping to back to Scott and Stiles, half of them glowing with power,

 

Stiles and Scott glanced at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. With a nod, Stiles stalked out of the room, Derek and Lydia following him after a small gesture of his hands. Lydia had her newly acquired gun at the ready. Chris and the Sheriff had been teaching her, Mason and Stiles combat with various weapons over the past three years since Monroe came into power.

 

Stiles gripped the doorknob, glancing back to the doorway he had just come through. Scott – who had stood in it with a crowd of curious supernatural creatures and allies behind him - shrugged and shook his head. So, it wasn’t hunters, but he didn’t know who it was. Lydia raised her gun as Stiles turned back and flung the door open, gathering his magic around him, ready to attack.

 

A curtain of straight black hair, framing delicate Korean features greeted him. It took Stiles a second to recognise the girl and the group behind her. After all, he hadn’t seen them in years and they all looked older since he’d seen them – they looked the same age as him and Scott, which didn’t make any sense at all.

 

“Kira?” he asked, startled. The kitsune gave him a tight-lipped smile. Stile’s wide eyes drifted over people behind her.

 

“Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Aiden,” Stiles paused as his eyes rested on the last person. “Allison.”

 

Stiles heard movement behind him and Lydia pushed past him as she rushed out the door, Ethan and Scott close behind her. Lydia latched onto Allison with an excited squeal whilst Ethan crashed into his brother and Scott picked Kira up in a hug. Stiles stood, frozen in shock as Chris brushed past him, slowly making his way towards Allison, as if he was scared she would disappear on him. Lydia let go of Allison after a few seconds, grinning like a madwoman. She glanced back at Chris and quickly moved on to where Aiden and Ethan were standing to give Allison and her father some privacy. Chris stood in front of his daughter for a second, just staring at her. Finally, Allison launched herself at her father with a chocked laugh. Chris caught her, holding her tightly and muttering quietly in her ear, his shoulders shaking slightly.

 

Derek stepped forward to stand next to Stiles. He peered uncertainly at his three former betas. Isaac had died the most recently. Chris said he’d been killed by some hunters in Paris. They stared back at him for a few seconds. Then, silently, Erica opened her arms for a hug, smiling softly.

 

“Come here big guy,” she said. Derek rushed forward into her hug.

 

“I don’t want to hear any apologies from you,” she ordered, her voice slightly muffled by her shoulder. “We’re all more to blame than you are.”

 

Derek’s grip tightened around her and Boyd slapped him comfortingly on the back.

 

Stiles turned back to Allison. Chris had moved on to greet Isaac with Scott and she was standing there, wiping joyful tears from her face. He may as well get this over with now. She was going to hate him either way.

 

Stiles drifted towards her, his throat dry and his hands shaking slightly.

 

“Allison,” he whispered. Her head snapped towards him, eyes wide. He fought the urge to cringe. “I’m…I’m so, so sorry.”

 

Aiden had just been let go by Lydia and Stiles glanced towards him, head ducked in shame.

 

“You too, Aiden.”

 

“Oh, Stiles,” Allison sighed. This time Stiles really did cringe, the familiar wave of guilt washing over him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

She strode towards him and enveloped him in a gentle hug.

 

“I never blamed you. No one did,” she assured him. Aiden nodded eagerly, although Stiles couldn’t see.

 

“I did,” was his reply from where his head was buried in her hair.

 

She pulled away, shooting him a glare and punching him in the shoulder.

 

“You idiot,” she stated although she smiled at him afterwards. They stared at each other, smiling, for about three seconds before Scott crashed into her, practically radiating happiness and relief.

 

The reunions continued for about five minutes. Stiles had gotten a ‘Hey, Batman’ from Erica before she jumped into his arms and even more surprising embraces from Isaac and Boyd. Kira smiled at him, promising to catch up later. Like Allison, him and her had gotten close over complaining about Scott. For Kira, she went to him for superhero movies, whilst Allison used to Star Wars marathon with him.

 

Finally, Stiles felt the need to address the elephant in the room.

 

“How?”

 

The previously-dead shared a look. Isaac and Boyd shrugged in unison.

 

“We don’t know,” Erica answered. “One moment, we’re dead, the next we were standing out in a desert and Kira stumbled towards us.”

 

Everyone turned to the kitsune.

 

“I don’t know much,” she answered. “I finally gained control over my powers a few months ago but the Skinwalkers wanted me to stay with them and learn some more about my powers. But, about a week ago they let me out. They said everything was going to change and that they had brought some people back to life to ‘even the playing field against the dead’”

 

“What does that mean?” Scott asked.

 

Kira shook her head, “I don’t know. But they did have a message for you and Stiles – they said you need to make a barrier around Beacon Hills and not the magical one Stiles has already put up. Only a physical one will protect us from the monsters to come. They also said that everyone needs to stay here.”Apparently, Beacon Hills will be one of the only safe places when shit goes down.

 

Everyone stood in silence for a few seconds.

 

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Stiles announced.

 

…

 

Stiles and Scott ended up using the shipping containers from the yard Deucalion showed them to surround Beacon Hills, making a boundary that cut through the forest, encompassing the area about a hundred metres past the Nemeton. Derek’s new construction business helped them get dirt and sand to fill the containers as well as enough iron to make a sturdy fence that wouldn’t break easily. With all of the supernatural creatures pitching in, plus some help from the residents of Beacon Hills (who were all either supernatural creatures or allies at this point since any anti-supernatural people had left the town not long after Monroe), the boundary was finished in a little under two weeks. Something told Stiles to order some other stuff and with the help of the various talents in the wide range of jobs the supernatural creatures did and some funding from Jackson’s seemingly never-ending supply of money, a large number of windmills and solar panels were delivered to Beacon Hills before all of the walls were up.

 

Not even two days after they’d gotten the gate in place, reports started broadcasting on TV of the dead coming back to life. Unlike Stiles’ friends, these ones looked like actual dead people. They also had a serious case of the munchies for living flesh. The disease swept over the world and within a week, society had crumpled. Beacon Hills was one of the few areas that didn’t get overwhelmed by the wave of walking corpses around the country.

 

Stiles was constantly trying to create spells that repelled them, with a little help from Deaton, Lydia and Mason. The residents of Beacon Hills eventually fell into their own rhythm, creating farmlands and becoming virtually self-sufficient. No one in Beacon Hills died when the dead started walking, which was virtually impossible if you looked at the rest of the world. About a month after the world ended, Stiles and Derek had the idea to hang up signs around the outside.

 

And so, life went on and people, both alive and dead kept coming to Beacon Hills. Eventually, after around one and a half years of surviving, Stiles decided to take a group out to find more survivors and take them back to Beacon Hills. That was how he ended up driving out of Beacon Hills, his blue jeep joining the convoy of three vehicles that would brave the new, terrifyingly apocalyptic remnants of the United States.

 

The gate closed behind them and as they drove away, the signs they passed read:

 

Beacon Hills Safe Zone

 

Supernatural Creatures and Friends Welcome

 

 


	2. Things are Going Very, Very Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support! A special thank you to Treybias and AsagiStilinksi for your comments. They made my day.
> 
> Credit to AsagiStilinski for some of the dialogue in this chapter.
> 
> I am looking for a beta reader, if anyone wants to be it, please message me on my tumblr, rose-thorn-14.

Rick’s heart hammered in his chest, threatening to burst out of it. Negan walked up and down the line of kneeling people, Lucille pausing on each person as he passed. Rick flinched when it passed Carl, but thankfully Negan hadn’t finished his song yet. 

Rick knew who he’d chosen when Negan slowed slightly as he came up to Abraham. Rick sucked in a breath as Negan smiled sadistically and opened his mouth.

He was cut off before he could get any words out. 

An arrow flew out of the trees behind Negan and landed right beside Abraham, almost clipping Lucille, who he’d been holding up at his side. 

Negan spun around, a stream of swear words flying from his lips. The road was filled with the sound of guns cocking as every saviour aimed towards the trees.

Negan let out a deranged laugh as he turned back towards the group.

“Damn,” he exclaimed rocking forward on his heels, “I thought we’d gotten all of you little shits.” 

He let out another laugh, his bat falling towards the ground as his arm hung limp. A second later, two more arrows embedded themselves in the throats of the saviours behind Carl. 

The manic amusement in Negan’s eyes was replaced with fury as their bodies fell to the ground. He strode towards Rick, swinging his bat wildly as he spoke.

“Alright… I have been downright KIND to you people. After all the trouble you’ve caused me, I was only going to kill ONE of you,” he yelled.

He stopped in front Rick, pointing the barbed bat threateningly at him.

“Now, tell me who exactly is out there,” he growled.

Rick shook his head slightly, opening his mouth, but unable to get any words out. As he tried to muster sound, two flashes of movement passed above him at the edges of his vision. A moment later, there were two thuds behind him as the men guarding his back fell dead.

Negan swung back to the trees and his furious scream made everyone flinch – saviours and Rick’s group alike. 

He took a threatening step towards the general direction of the shooter, bat raised, only for another arrow to fly out, this time hitting him in the shoulder. The force of the arrow knocked him over with a grunt of pain and a clatter as Lucille fell out of his hand.

The next second, the lights on all of the trucks went out, leaving the clearing illuminated only by the stars.

At that moment, the saviours started shooting into the trees.

Rick and the rest of his group dropped to the ground, pressing their bodies as far down as they could go. Rick didn’t know if he was hallucinating or going blind, but a mist seemed to rise around him, obscuring the flashes of the saviours’ guns. At some point, the ringing in his ears got so loud that he could no longer hear the explosive banging of the guns.

He squeezed his eyes shut – wanting nothing more in that moment than for everything to stop.

A second later, it did. 

The ringing in Rick’s ears cut off abruptly, causing him to open his eyes in shock. He jerked up into a sitting position as his eyes swung around wildly. They were, in fact, surrounded by a thick mist that seemed to leave a circle around his group and Negan. The truck lights had been turned back on, leaving the clearing a little brighter than before as they glowed from somewhere beyond the murky veil.

Rick glanced to either side of him to find the rest of his group looking around at their little dome of clearness in wonder. The saviours had disappeared and he couldn’t hear anything outside their clearing. 

The group looked at each other confusedly when suddenly there was a crunching ahead of them. Everyone’s eyes snapped to where they could make out the vague outline of the trees.

To Rick’s surprise, the figure that emerged from the mist was young – maybe younger than Glenn was when this whole thing started. His clothes were also clean, like he’d had access to soap and enough clean water to keep his white t-shirt from fading. Rick would have thought he hadn’t been living in this apocalyptic hell-scape if it wasn’t for the look on his face. 

The boy had his eyes trained on the figure of Negan, lying prone on the ground. His expression was drawn and his amber eyes held a stormy resolve. He didn’t even glance at them as he walked up the Negan and stood over his body.

“You’re Negan?” he asked. Rick was surprised by how clear the boy’s voice was. It held none of the gravelly weariness of the other survivors he had met. It sounded almost musical – even if it was clipped with anger. Yet, Rick couldn’t deny the power it commanded. 

Negan – who had been surprisingly quiet up until that point – grunted and ground out, “That depends who’s asking.”

At this, the boy chuckled darkly. The sound made Rick shiver involuntarily as it echoed around the clearing. His mind couldn’t focus on a single tone of the noise, almost like there were a hundred voices giggling from the air around him.

“Oh, I don’t expect you’ll remember me,” he assured Negan. “I’m just another annoying kid.”

Rick highly doubted that and apparently everyone else did is as well, as a series of quiet incredulous huffs echoed from around him, including a somewhat strained one from Negan, who was still lying down with the arrow in his shoulder. 

The kid leaned down towards Negan. “You’ won’t remember my name, but this one will strike a chord – you remember Chris Argent, don’t you?”

At the mention of the name, Negan jerked his head towards the ground, sliding himself across the road and slightly away from the kid. It was the first time Rick had seen him look even slightly unsettled.

“You’re an Argent kid?”

“No,” the boy replied quickly, shaking his head, an amused yet unsettling smile spreading across his face. He straightened up, picking up Negan’s dropped bat as he did.

“But my friend, Allison, is. She wasn’t very happy when you stabbed her dad in the back and left him there to die, locked in a warehouse full of zombies. You left my best friend, Scott’s, Mum to die there too. Hell, you left all of us.”

The boy’s voice and smile turned cold. “But, why I’m here is because you shot my dad. He almost died because of you and I can’t just let that go. The world can’t afford to have people like you walking around in it.”

He held the barbed bat out, looking down it as if testing its weight. 

Negan started to sit up and pushed himself back further.

“Wait-”, he started quickly.

He didn’t get to finish as the kid swiftly brought the bat down on Negan’s head. It made a sickening crunching sound on impact. The head stuck slightly as the kid brought the bat back up before, the body fell back to the floor like a ragdoll as blood spewed out of. The kid swung again, destroying the skull and spurting more blood.

On the third swing, Rick looked away – he could start to see bone and brain tissue flying as well as the blood.

Rick lost count of the hits quickly, a mix of both satisfaction and terrified disgust swirling sickeningly in the pit of his stomach. 

He only turned his head back when the noise stopped. He didn’t know how long it’d been – each swing seemed like both an eternity and a blink of an eye.

Negan’s face was no longer recognisable, just a bloody smear across the road with a leather-clad body next to it. The kid’s shirt was no longer clean, splattered with blood and other body parts that Rick didn’t want to think about and Lucille was tinted red, chunks still hanging from her barbs. The boy dropped the bat next to the body, wiping his hands across his jeans as if it tainted him.

Then, for the first time, he turned his attention to the group kneeling across from him. 

Rick’s blood ran cold and dread pooled in his stomach. What was this kid gonna do?

Much to his surprise, the kid’s voice held none of the previous terrifying finality it did before – in fact it was earnest and friendly when he addressed them.

“Well, come on,” he commanded. “Stand up. Why are you all still on the ground?”

Rick felt the eyes of the group turn to him, waiting for his move. The kid cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrow. But the welcoming smile on his face was ruined by the carnage on his shirt and arms.

The kid rolled his eyes, but his voice was still light, “I’m starting to feel bad now. I’m one of the good guys, I promise. Stand up.”

Rick swallowed before slowly pushing himself to his feet. Carl, Glenn, Michonne and Daryl followed soon after, then everyone else.

Once everyone was standing, Rick finally found his voice again.

“Who’re you?” 

The kid shrugged, as if the answer was the simplest thing in the world.

“I’m Stiles.”


	3. Who the hell is this kid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Again, thanks for all the support on the last chapter.
> 
> A special thanks to Treybias, AsagiStilinksi and Christopher 91 for commenting on the last chapter. And a special thanks to Veronica for their (I'm using gender neutral since I'm not sure which pronouns you prefer) amazing comment! Thank you Veronica!
> 
> Credit to AsagiStilinski for some of the dialogue in this chapter.
> 
> I am looking for a beta reader, if anyone wants to be it, please message me on my tumblr, rose-thorn-14.

“What’s a Stiles?” Daryl scoffed. 

Rick could hear the strain in his voice, even in that short line, and a stab of worry cut through his gut.

Stiles shook his head, looking at the ground and sighing in frustration.

“Everyone asks that,” was all he said in answer.

Rick frowned. He hadn’t had good experiences with people using titles as names (Negan immediately coming to mind) and Stiles was definitely not his real name.

Before he could call this ‘Stiles’ out, the boy turned to Maggie and Daryl, who were standing next to each other supported by Glenn and Aron respectively.

“Man,” he observed, “You two have definitely seen better days.”

He took half a step towards them, raising his arm slightly. Immediately everyone shifted closer to Maggie. Even Daryl, injured himself, stepped in front of her. Carl, to Rick’s alarm, actually stepped towards Stiles, moving to meet the boy in his path. 

Stiles stopped moving, mouth dropping open in surprise as he met Carl’s fierce glare. After a second’s hesitation, his eyes flickering back to Maggie with a calculating look that Rick couldn’t quite place, he stepped back raising his hands up in the universal ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. 

His gaze softened and suddenly he didn’t look very threatening at all, even with the blood. The change jolted Rick to his core.

“Why did you decide to help us?” Michonne asked, her voice wavering in rare uncertainty.

Stiles turned his attention to her and gave a non-committal shrug.

“It was more about getting Negan off this planet – saving you guys was just a happy bonus. We’d been tracking him down for months and had been following his goons all day. When we saw what you were doing, we decided to intervene whilst all of you still had your heads attached.”

Rick cringed inwardly at the reminder of just how close he’d come to losing one of his family and shivered at the thought. Watching Negan die that way was hard enough, he couldn’t imagine having to endure seeing that happen to someone he actually cared for.

“We?” Glenn asked from his place beside Maggie. 

Stiles looked at him, raising his eyebrow. 

“You didn’t think I did this alone, did you?” he laughed. “I’m flattered, but I’m not that good.”

“So, where are the rest of your group?” Sasha demanded, glancing furtively at the trees.

Stiles raised his hand and waved vaguely.

“Oh, they’re around here somewhere. They have to deal with whoever survived that little skirmish.”

He shook his head, as if in dismissal and turned back to Maggie, concern slipping onto his face.

“Do you guys have a doctor?”

“We were on our way to one,” Rick admitted quietly.

Stiles hummed lowly and frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he continued to look at Maggie.

“I don’t know how far you guys have to go and the quality of the care your getting, but we have someone back at the base. Scott’s mum’s a nurse and sometimes worked the maternity ward so I’m sure she can help you. She’s one of the best medical professionals I’ve encountered, especially in this world. Our place is only a few minutes away, so I can take you if you want.”

“Why would you help us?” Rosita piped up, eyes narrow. 

Stiles glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. 

“Umm, maybe because you guys need it?” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You have an obviously pregnant woman in your group who definitely requires medical attention, one shot guy and a kid with an eye patch that I’m guessing’s not for decoration. No offense, but you guys look like you just lost a fight, which you did. Now, my group and I have interest in keeping at least moderately sane people alive and you guys are and correct me if I’m wrong, but you guys are meeting that description. I happen to like people most of the time. I mean, it’s either that or being one of the undead, right?”

He ended abruptly, like he hadn’t really been thinking about what he was saying.

Rick’s eyes widened. The rushed speech had caught him off guard and was not at all what he’d been expecting. Especially from someone who’d just been unconcerned by cracking a man’s skull open. A look around his group told him they were similarly surprised. 

“So…?” Stiles asked, turning his gaze to Rick.

Rick glanced at Maggie and Daryl. Maggie clung to Glenn’s arm with one hand and was holding her belly with the other. She was paler than he’d ever seen her before and her eyes were rimmed with a blackness that was not unlike if she’d been punched in the face. Daryl was looking a bit better than her. He was pale and Rick could tell from the slight strain in his eyes and the purse of his lips that he was restraining a grimace. His shoulders hunched in on themselves and he was leaning on Aron.

“Alright,” he sighed.

Stiles nodded and smiled gently, turning to the RV that Rick realised he could now see. In fact, the mist seemed to have completely cleared.

“Is this yours?”

“Yeah,” Rick grunted.

Stiles voice was light and happy, “Great. Let’s get on. I’ll take you to Melissa.”

He opened the door but stepped out of the way to let them in. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Sasha, Rosita and Eugene walked up the steps and into the vehicle. 

“What about your people?” Michonne asked.

Stiles shrugged. “They’ll make their own way home. They’ll be fine.”

He took half a step towards the door before freezing. He then sighed and rubbed a hand across his face.

“Ah, crap,” he muttered. Rosita spun around in the hall just beyond doorway.

“What?” Rick asked, alarmed.

Stiles ignored him, instead turning to the trees and cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Lydia!” He shouted. “Do you know how to drive an RV?”

A second later, a girl with strawberry blonde hair emerged from the darkness of the trees. Like Stiles was a few minutes ago, she was unusually clean with her dark blue jeans and green top with a stylish leather jacket. Unlike Stiles (who had no weapons on him), she had a single pistol hanging in a holster on her hip.

“Can I recite Catullus from memory in both Latin and English?”

Stiles squinted, ducking his head.

“I want to say yes…?”

The girl – Lydia – smirked at him and reached up to pat ruffle his hair before striding into the RV.

Stiles grumbled quietly to himself before turning back to Rick, still holding the door open.

“Do you want me to go in first or follow you guys in?”

Rick raised his eyebrows at him. “Excuse me?”

Stiles shrugged and gently answered, “You’ve put a lot of trust in me. I may as well give you control where I can. You’ll probably be ordered around a lot once we get to the base.”

Rick nodded and licked his lips as the gears in his head turned.

“Everyone else can get on, then you and I can get on last.”

Stiles nodded and the rest of Rick’s group climbed into the RV, Carl still glaring at Stiles. Rick let Stiles pile in first and pulled the door shut behind himself.

Stiles quickly made his way to front only to find Abraham sitting behind the wheel. 

“I’m driving,” he grunted.

“Ok,” Stiles replied without hesitation. “I’ve got shotgun.”

“No,” Lydia protested from his side. “I do.”

Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes, “We both know the way home, Lyds.”

“But, do you know the exact distance in clicks?” she challenged archly.

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked to the back where Rick and his group were watching this exchange. He shook his head as he did. 

“That’s what I thought,” she called after him smugly and sat down in the seat beside Abraham.

Glenn raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

He shrugged, “No one ever wins against Lydia.”

Rick pursed his lips, not daring to take his eyes off Stiles as the vehicle started moving. The man in question glanced at Carl, lips twitching.

“Is that your dad’s? My dad was a sheriff too. I used to steal his badge all the time. In fact, I usually carry one of his old ones”

Stiles reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled out a shiny sheriff’s badge. He held it towards Carl so he could see.

Carl just glared back at him, unimpressed.

“How do we know we can trust you?” he asked aggressively.

“You don’t,” Stiles replied. “But, if we wanted to kill you guys, we probably already would have.”

Aron nodded at that one. Rick remembered the man using similar reasoning when brought them to Alexandria. 

“Right,” Stiles addressed the group, clapping his hands together. “I’ve introduced myself. Who’re you guys?”

Rick refrained from shooting back that he hadn’t really introduced himself since he was clearly lying about his name. 

“I’m Rick,” he ground out fighting the uneasiness at divulging information to the stranger.

“This is Sasha, Rosita, Eugene, Michonne, Aron, Daryl, Maggie, Glenn and Carl. The one driving is Abraham.”

Stiles nodded and opened his mouth to answer but was cut off.

“Malia wants to know what you want done with the bat.”

Stiles paused, coking his head to the side. Rick could practically see him thinking.

After several seconds, he replied, “Burn it with the body.”

“Burn it?” Lydia asked, her voice unsure.

“Yeah. That thing has way too many ghosts clinging to it and we already have enough problems with the dead coming to life.”

Lydia nodded and spoke quietly into a walkie talkie that Rick hadn’t noticed before.

“How many are in your group?” Rick asked.

Stiles frowned in concentration. “Let’s see. Me, Lydia plus Scott. That’s three, four, five… Umm, fifteen.”

“Fifteen?” Rick asked. That didn’t add up. How did fifteen people deal with the saviours?

Stiles shrugged. “I know it’s not that many, but we came down from California to look for people.”

“Wait,” Sasha cut him off. “You came all the way from California to look for more people?”

Most groups actively tried to avoid other people.

“Why come all this way?”

Stiles waved his hand in the equivalent of a shrug. “It’s a long, boring story that’ll take too long. I’ll tell you sometime later.” 

Rick didn’t like the thought of later.

Before he could ask more questions, the RV ground to a stop.

Stiles smiled. 

“Welcome to Beacon Valley Safe Zone.”


	4. What the Hell is this Place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to AsagiStilinski for some of the dialogue in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks to AsagiStlinski, NavisX, akibabes25, Veronic and Yoori for commenting.
> 
> Sorry for the late update, I had a hectic week last week. Also sorry for any mistakes, I didn't get time to edit. I am looking for a beta reader, if anyone wants to be it, please message me on my tumblr, rose-thorn-14.

Rick walked to the front of the RV with Stiles. His eyes widened when he saw the wall of smooth metal that stood about three metres higher than Alexandria’s. 

Stiles smirked at Rick’s incredulous expression.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he asked. “We pulled it off a rollercoaster in a theme park we raided a few miles from here. It sucked to move but was totally worth it.”

Wait. What?

“You brought it here?” 

Rick couldn’t imagine humans disassembling, moving and rebuilding that much metal without the help of construction equipment. 

Stiles looked away from Rick quickly, ducking his head and Rick caught the tail end of a glare that Lydia sent him. Stiles patted Lydia’s arm gently and she rolled her eyes.

She lifted the walkie talkie to her lips and muttered something that Rick couldn’t hear (he wasn’t even entirely certain it was in English). The next second, a section of the wall, about ten metres wide, started moving in front of them. It moved surprisingly smoothly, only making a low rumbling sound and being entirely opened in about ten seconds.

The gate shut just as efficiently behind them as they drove in. 

“You can park over there,” Stiles muttered, pointing to a strip of asphalt where multiple vehicles were parked, including a few motorbikes and a bright blue jeep. Rick distantly wondered how the brightly coloured car had made it so long.

The RV rumbled to a stop and Stiles practically bounced out of it. Rick followed him with Lydia close behind. 

A man in a sheriff’s uniform enveloped Stiles in a hug as soon as he stepped out of the RV. So, the kid hadn’t been lying about his Dad. Rick deftly wondered how he’d kept the uniform clean and in-tact.

The sheriff pulled away, shaking his head as hid eyes fell on the RV.

“Again, Stiles?” he asked.

Stiles shrugged, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“What can I say? I can never resist,” Stiles sobered as he said his next words. “Besides, Negan had them.”

The sheriff’s eyes hardened at that statement and he gave a stiff nod, looking into his son’s eyes before they flicked over to Rick’s group, who had all now piled out of the vehicle.

“Is Melissa in the clinic, Dad? We have a really sick pregnant woman, a gunshot victim, and Eugen here has a pretty nice shine with possible concussion, amongst various other minor injuries.”

The sheriff glanced behind him to the large arrangement of buildings that resided in the safety of the walls, “Yeah, she is. I’ll call ahead so she can get ready. She’ll probably want Deaton in there with her if things are serious. Chris can handle the rest since Scott’s out.”

Stiles nodded, “And I can help with the battery wounds.”

The sheriff raised his eyebrow sceptically. 

“Hey, I can wrap a bandage!”

The sheriff rolled his eyes at his son. 

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, glancing over at Maggie with a similar look of concern that his son had done.

“I’ll get Boyd and Isaac to help carry her over,” the sheriff told them as he turned and moved away in a brisk jog, slipping a walkie talkie out of his belt as he did so.

Stiles turned back to the group that had come out of the RV. 

“Where’s the clinic?” Glenn asked him quickly.

“It’s the cream building over there,” Lydia informed them. Rick looked ahead to see a four to five story building peaking out from behind a red shed. There was a taller, grey building behind it that had balconies sticking out from the windows.

“I know you’re scared, but she’s in good hands,” Lydia assured them with a soft voice.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay,” Stiles added. “Melissa’s dealt with stuff like this before and I’m sure Deaton has as well.”

Glenn nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath and wrapping his arms tighter around Maggie. He fidgeted, eyebrows furrowing in worry.

“I don’t think it’s a miscarriage, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Lydia told him taking a step towards him and patting him on the shoulder. 

Glenn nodded jerkily, eyes still trained worriedly on Maggie.

“It looks like appendicitis from to the symptoms,” she continued.  
Glenn’s lips twitched upwards and Lydia smiled comfortingly at him before turning back to Stiles.

“I’m gonna go get cleaned up before I have to do Perimeter Checks with Erica.”

“Okay,” Stiles acknowledged as Lydia walked up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek before moving onto the group of buildings in the centre of the Safe Zone

“Right,” Stiles addressed the group, clapping his hands together. “I’ll bring you guys over to Argent once Boyd and Isaac get here. I think it’s best of most of you come with us, but it should be fine if Glenn goes with them. Melissa doesn’t like it when too may people crowd her procedures.”

“Argent?” Abraham asked. “Like the same Argent who knew Negan?” 

Stiles nodded. “One and the same. He’s the best at removing bullets besides Melissa and Deaton, but they’ll be occupied with Maggie.”

“I don’t want Maggie and Glenn going with your people alone,” Rick ground out, shaking his head for emphasis when he received noises assent from the group around him.

Stiles frowned, eyes scanning the group in front of him, and then shrugged.

“That’s fair. Another three of you can go with them, but you have to listen to exactly what Melissa says. She might let Glenn in the Operation Room, but she definitely won’t let the rest of you in there.”

Rick nodded and glanced around at his family. Before he could ask the question, Aron, Rosita and Sasha stepped forward. Rick nodded in consent to them going. They were all tough, but level-headed enough to listen when the doctor told them what to do.

Stiles looked up towards the clear night sky that was slowly lightening into morning as the crunching of boots across the gravelly asphalt that paved the clearing near the gate and carpark.

Two men, around Stiles age, walked up to them at a brisk pace. One – a tall, dark skinned guy with a buzz cut and muscles that bulged even through his leather jacket – was holding a light blue stretcher under his right arm. The other – a slightly shorter and slimmer, but still muscled boy with pale skin, curly light-brown hair and stormy, greyish blue eyes that gleamed when they caught light – had his eyes trained on Stiles as he approached them.

“It’s going to rain,” Stiles stated as the thinner one slung an arm around his shoulders.

The taller one nodded seriously as he placed the stretcher down and lifted Maggie onto it. The curly-haired one untangled himself from Stiles and moved to Maggie’s feet, picking the stretcher up with his companion in perfect timing.

“Be gentle,” Stiles called as they walked towards the cream building, Sasha, Glenn, Rosita and Aron following close behind. 

The bulkier one, who was walking backwards, grinned back at him and nodded gently.

Stiles angled himself towards a group of buildings across the asphalt rode and walked towards a dark green shed that sat opposite the red one. Daryl and Rick were the first ones to heed his ‘Come on’ thrown over his shoulder.

“So,” Daryl grunted, pressing a hand to the bullet wound by his shoulder. “What sort of name is Beacon Valley?”

Stiles shrugged, “Our permanent spot in Cali is called Beacon Hills and we wanted to keep the same theme running through all of our Safe Zones. We already have another one called Beacon Planes that is about half-way between here and there.”

Rick’s eyes widened.

“How many are you planning on making?” he asked at the same time as Michonne inquiring, “How long have you been out here?”

Stiles paused for a second, “We’ll establish one wherever we need to and we’ve been out here for a little less than a year now, but we’ve done a few check-ins with the home base.”

Rick nodded as they passed the green shed and turned off a thinner path behind it. The ground was smoother now and they were walking slightly downhill. He glanced ahead to see that the land did slop inwards slightly with a garden being at the centre of the wide valley. For the first time, he realised that this place was probably just as big as Alexandria.

They walked for a few more minutes in silence until they came up to a large, double story, brick house. At first glance, it seemed as if the building was untouched by the apocalypse, but when he looked closer, Rick could see the door was reinforced and the windows were protected by bars.

Stiles paused as he stepped onto the small, sheltered veranda. 

He heaved a deep sigh and hung his head as he raised his hand.

“I hope he’s in a good mood,” he muttered just before he knocked on the door.

Rick counted exactly a minute before the door was ripped violently off its hinges.


	5. Phone Calls and Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. I've been a bit busy with school.
> 
> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments. I will try and finish this story eventually. I just need to get a real narrative line. But I think I've got one.

A man with a grey beard rips open the door with a fierce scowl. The scowl deepened when his eyes fell on Stiles.

“What do you want, Stilinksi?” he spat.

Stiles crossed his arms and shifted on his feet.

“Oh, come on, Chris,” he grumbled. “You’re not still mad about that window, are you? I fixed like three days ago. Plus, I didn’t technically break it in the first place.”

Chris rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort when his gaze flickered to Rick and the rest, who was standing behind Stiles.

“Stiles, who are these people?” he asked lowly.

“They’re injured?” Stiles told him, but it sounded more like a question. His voice got higher as the sentence went on.

“Goddammit Stiles. Not again,” the older man huffed.

“Hey, I found these guys on the wrong side of Negan’s bat and since you’re the one who let him go, I think this can be technically counted as your fault.”

The scowl was back. “I didn’t let him go.”

Stiles shrugged. “For the record, both Allison and I voted for killing him and there’s a reason you guys go to me for personality checks.”

“He was a good hunter and he didn’t go by Negan when I knew him.”

Stiles shook his head and grumbled something under his breath. Rick didn’t catch what he said, but he picked up ‘hunters’ and ‘good my ass’ as well as an array of other expletives.

Chris huffed again and opened the door wider, stepping out of the way. 

“What’ve we got?” he asked.

Stiles entered, glancing behind him and gesturing with his head to come inside.

“A gun shot wound, a few scrapes I’m assuming, and I think Eugene here might have a concussion.”

Chris raised his eyebrows as he looked back at the group.

“Why isn’t Melissa or Alan taking care of this?”

“One of their group is pregnant and is having complications, both Deaton and Melissa are with her.”

Chris nodded and lead them into the kitchen, which had a wooden table in the centre. He gestured to it and the group sat down on the array of chairs. He opened a drawer, grabbing bandages, a thread, needle and rubbing alcohol out of it.

“Is the bullet still in?” he asked, flicking his eyes to Daryl.

With a grunt, Daryl shook his head. 

“Good.” 

He moved and shooed Stiles off the chair beside Daryl, pulling it closer to the archer.

Stiles grabbed a couple of gauzes and other bandages from the same drawer Chris had opened. 

“I’ll get started on the other stuff.”

Chris gave a grunt and shot a surprised look Stiles’ way.

“I can bandage a wound,” the boy replied defensively.

“Don’t faint.”

“I haven’t done that in years,” Stiles shot back, huffing as he approached Michonne, who had a nasty scrape on her arm.

“Ice packs are in the freezer for any swelling or nasty bruises. Carl, buddy, that info was for you. You’re gonna get a nasty shiner on the unpatched eye if you don’t get something on it quickly.”

Carl huffed and glared at Stiles’ back but moved to the freezer when Michonne elbowed him in the ribs.

“How do you get electricity?” Eugene asked in a daze, staring wide eyed at the lights.

“We have a few solar panels out back, but we get most of our energy from lighting to electricity energy.”

“Lightning to electricity? I’ve never heard of it. Wouldn’t that require very advanced technology?”

Stiles’ head turned sharply towards Eugene, who now had an ice pack against his head. After a second’s hesitation, he answered.

“Most of us were college students when the apocalypse broke out. Lydia’s a mathematical genius, Isaac and I are pretty good at mechanical design, Boyd is really good at actually making stuff – whatever it is – and our friend who you haven’t met yet, Kira, is kind of a lightning expert. That mixed with desperation and a can-do attitude helped is create the tech we needed,” he explained brightly.

Suddenly, Stiles froze from where he was wrapping a wound on Abraham’s leg. He visibly shuddered before slowly going back to wrapping the bandage.

Chris frowned, obviously having noticed the strange behaviour.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. 

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “I just have a bad feeling.”

“That’s definitely not good,” Chris grumbled.

Stiles nodded in agreement. “I’ll check in with Lydia and see how she’s feeling, but I’ll probably ask someone to go and get the others back anyway – it’s going to rain and I don’t want them out there in weather like that.”

“How do you know it’s gonna rain?” Daryl grumbled. “The sky’s clear.”

Stiles shrugged. “Intuition I guess?”

There was no time for anymore answers because Stiles’ walkie-talkie buzzed.

“Hello,” Stiles greeted.

“Hi, Stiles!” came the bright and surprisingly clear voice of one of the stretcher-boys – Isaac, Rick remembered.

“What do you need, cutie?” Stiles asked playfully. 

“Melissa told us that there’d nothing to worry about and that she’s stable. It was appendicitis and Melissa’s gonna be able to remove it and Dr Deaton said he’d managed to find enough meds on his last run to help her and put her under for the procedure. Is it ok if we give them the pregnancy supplements you picked up last week?”

Stiles grinned at the others in Rick’s group.

“It’s good news!” he addressed the group.

Rick nodded in relieved agreement. Everyone let out a sigh. 

Stiles pulled the walkie talkie back to his mouth.

“Of course, they can take the pregnancy stuff. When are we gonna use it? And since when is med distribution my choice?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Dr Deaton said to ask you to see if they’re trustworthy before we hand out drugs.”

Stiles rolled his eyes again.

“They’re at like a 3-5 out of 10 threat level, but they’re only that high because they just saw me stroll out of the woods and bash someone’s brains in with a baseball bat.”

There was a hesitation on the end of the line and some muffled voices before Isaac returned to the phone.

“Great! Thanks Stiles!”

“Wait, Isaac!” Stiles hurriedly called.

“Yeah, Babe?”

“Can you go pick up Sourwolf and the others? I have a bad feeling, plus it’s going to rain later, so I want them back ASAP?”

“Roger that,” came Isaac’s slightly more serious voice. “I’ll go pick up Der-bear and the others. Have you checked in with them and Lydia?”

“I’m about to call Lydia and then the runners.”

“Cool. See you later.”

“Stay safe, puppy.”

There was a snort from the other end of the line. “I’m not the one always getting into trouble, magician.”

Stiles huffed, “Really?”

Isaac laughed before the channel faded to static. 

He grinned at Rick’s group.

“Congratulations. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He didn’t allow them to answer because he was calling someone else.

“Lydia?”

“Yes, sweetie?” she replied.

“How’s patrol?”

“Fine, I haven’t seen anything. Your protection is working, like always. Now, what do you want?” she asked, voice clipped.

“Have you got a bad feeling?”

There was a sigh. “Yeah, but it’s nothing major. I don’t think anyone’s going to die.”

Stiles nodded. “Good. I’m bringing them in anyway though. Thanks, Lyds. You’re the best. Have a nice rest of the patrol and tell Erica she needs to get her clothes inside if she doesn’t want them to get wet.”

“Okay, bye.”

Stiles fiddled with the nob on his walkie talkie again and brought it up to his lips.

“I’m not sure walkie talkies work like that,” Eugen muttered.

“They’re military grade and have been tinkered with,” Chris grumbled quietly from where he was now leaning against a kitchen bench.

“Hey, Sourwolf!” Stiles greeted.

“Stiles,” a decidedly aggravated voice growled through the device.

“How’s clean up going?” 

“Good,” the voice informed him, slightly less antagonised than it had been. “We’ve got about ten left. Most of them are twos or threes, but we have one six and two sevens.”

“Why’ve you left them?”

“Two of them have kids and one of them’s a doctor.”

Stiles nodded. “I trust you have them sufficiently restrained?”

“Of course,” the man sounded almost offended. 

“Ok, leave them there. We’ll deal with them tomorrow. Isaac’s coming to pick you up.”

“Bad feeling?” 

“Yep. And it’s gonna rain later.”

“Okay, see you soon, I guess.”

“I await your return, my love,” Stiles crooned.

A snort, then, “Bye cupcake.”

Stiles clapped his hands together as the line turned to static. 

“Right, let’s get you guys settled.”


	6. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things run smoothly... kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I had a serious case of writer's block and too much schoolwork.

Stiles shifted restlessly from his position on the watch tower that was attached to the wall a few metres to the side of the gate. 

Rick and his group had been settled in one of the apartment complexes about half an hour ago. They’d really struck gold when they’d found this developing town in their search for new safe zones and supernatural creatures. He frowned, thinking about Jackson, Ethan and Aiden who were still at Beacon Plains, the other safe zone they’d set up. He was unable to supress the wave of anxiety at not knowing what they were doing. 

Stiles startled fiddling with his hands, sparks of magic dancing in his palms and between his fingers. Above him, the sky was darkening, despite the time approaching midday. The sky had been completely clear all morning, but ever since the apocalypse started, the weather had been far more erratic. Most human groups they met hadn’t noticed, the dead coming back to life had seemed a much more important detail. However, a few supernatural creatures (particularly witches and weather beings like Kira) had mentioned it when they’d stumbled across each other.

His feet shifted nervously as the clouds darkened further. It would start to drizzle soon. He peered out unto foggy road. Where were they?

The rain and darkness often brought out the nastier supernatural creatures, who were not always content to prey at night now that the population of their food had dwindled drastically. A few of the ghouls and vampires had taken to preying on walkers, but from what Stiles had seen, it always came at a price. The supernatural creatures became more viscous and animalistic after drinking the blood of the undead. It was sad, really. Stiles could see them try to fight it, but some of them were uncontrollable. They had even been forced to kill a few.

That was a great shame as supernatural creatures needed to stick together in Stiles opinion. Especially now, since business was booming for hunters. Stiles would think they’d be given a break now that the dead walked the Earth. But, no, most hunters were admenant about wiping them out, some even more so now. 

The convoy rolled up to the gate just as it started drizzling. Stiles grinned, bouncing on his toes. A fire sparked to life in his left hand as he walked over to the rope attached to a series of bells around the perimeter. He gave two sharp tugs. The signal that there was a friend at the gate and they should be opened. The bells were just loud enough to be heard about ten metres in from the perimeter with human ears but not at all through the metal walls. 

The quiet, low rumbling filled the room and Stiles’ grinned widened. 

Suddenly, he felt the wind pick up, causing his smile to pull down at the edges. He took a deep breath, calming himself down. It was already going to rain later, he didn’t want to make the weather worse with accidental magic. Another breath had the fire in his hand extinguishing.

He allowed himself to lean against the edge of the glassless window of the watch tower, his eyes following each car as they entered the safe zone. He gave another tug on the rope – close the gates. 

Stiles continued bouncing on his heels, the grin returning to his face with a force. However, he was careful to keep his magic in check. 

He couldn’t wait to get down there and greet the others, but his watch shift wouldn’t be over for another hour. 

Suddenly, a thudding came close below him. Even though he knew there was no way a threat had entered the safe zone, Stiles picked up his gun, training it on the door. He kept the safety on, since he could tell his nerves were a little frayed. He was standing at such an angle that someone at the door wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. 

There was a series of bangs on the door, one, then two, then three. It was a series that everyone in the compound used to show they came in peace. Originally, Stiles and his mum used to tap it out on each other’s arms or heads or anywhere they could reach really. To them, it meant ‘I love you’. The meaning didn’t really change between the pack. None of them were afraid to admit that they loved each other. They had been together through too much to pretend differently.

Stiles lowered his weapon and knocked twice on the metal wall next him. The door knob turned, revealing his dad. Stiles smiled at him, although his eyes drew together in the confusion. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, checking his watch. “Your shift doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”

Stile’s dad shrugged.

“I knew you’d want to say hi to the troops. I know how you worry when they’re out.”

Stiles grinned appreciatively at his Dad. 

“Thanks,” he said as he tucked his gun into its holster. 

Dad patted his shoulder as he passed him on the way out. 

“Go. Play. Give them a check-up. And make sure to say hi to Derek and Malia for me.”

Stiles didn’t miss his father’s smirk as he exited. He made sure the door was closed behind him before he let his eyes roll.

He made his way down the steps before everyone had gotten out of the convoys. 

Derek was standing next to the army vehicle they’d found a few weeks ago. Isaac was already hanging off him, grinning goofily. He slammed into both of them, causing the entwined duo to stumble.

Derek grunted, annoyed, but the slight quirk of his lips betrayed his amusement. Stiles held onto their embrace a second longer before turning to the group that had trooped out of the two vehicles.

Derek, Scott, Malia, Kira and Allison had gone on the mission and at a quick glance, they all looked unharmed. A grunt came from the Camaro as another person stumbled out of the passenger seat. It was the Coach. Stiles had forgotten he’d gone with them. 

Stiles greeted each person, fist bumping Scott and giving each girl a kiss on the cheek and a hug. He even gave Coach a pat on the back. 

Then, out of routine now, they all formed a circle around Stiles and Scott. Stiles took a deep breath before clicking his fingers. Cords of golden light sprung to life. Two branched from every person, one connecting to Stiles and another to Scott. A bright red cord connected the two best friends. The Alpha and his second. Although, nowadays, Stiles seemed to jump between roles and the pack was more of a democracy than a dictatorship. Scott’s position as Alpha was mostly symbolic and was only reinforced when Stiles used his spells like the bonds and the mind link. 

Everyone grinned as the pack bond was reinforced. Unlike the mind link, the bond did not break over long distances, but it was common practice for Stiles to make it visible with his spell every time a team came back from a mission or run.

Malia groaned as the rain became heavier. Previously, it had been light enough to ignore, only feeling like light ticking on their skin.

“Right, I’m going inside,” the Coach announced. “Call if you need me – and don’t do the freaky mind thing unless it’s an emergency.”

The Coach stalked off towards the house he shared with Deaton.

Isaac grinned amusedly after him before turning to Stiles.

“I’ve got to return to Deaton and Melissa. They might want some help with Maggie.”

Stiles nodded and gave him a one-armed hug. Derek ruffled Isaac’s hair affectionately and Scott fist-bumped him. Allison gave him a kiss on the cheek before he walked off.

“Okay,” Stiles begun. “Let’s return the extra weapons to the supply shed. We can have a run down in there.”

They trudged inside, their clothes dripping on the concrete floor of the shed.

“I trust everything went smoothly?” he asked.

There were affirmatives all around. 

Stiles nodded, pleased. “Okay, all our guests are settled.”

Scott grinned. “Good job, man.”

“Have they asked any difficult questions?” Derek asked in his usual gruff manner. 

Stiles gave him a reassuring smile and stepped towards him. Derek slung an arm around his shoulder. 

“Nothing to suggest they know about the supernatural. Just the usual paranoia that comes with the zombie apocalypse. They’re weirded out, sure, but I don’t think they suspect anything.”

Everyone sagged at that. Malia leaned into Scott and Allison and Kira high-fived.

“I’d call that a successful mission, Boss,” Allison announced proudly. 

Stiles blushed slightly but didn’t bother correcting her. She wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Instead, he decided to move on.

“G should be coming around tomorrow with some supplies. We should have something to offer him,” he informed everyone.

“He said he’d do it for free,” Malia grumbled.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but he doesn’t need to help us so much just because we saved his life once. I’ve already got the usual protection amulet and anti-supernatural warding spell ready. But, he’s bringing us chocolate, so I feel like we should show our appreciation.”

Kira peered at him furtively in a way that he knew meant that she agreed with him but had some questions.

“What can we give him that he can’t get himself?”

“I don’t know” he shrugged. “It doesn’t need to be anything useful – just something nice.”

She nodded. “Lydia’s a good drawer, she and I could come up with something.”

Stiles smiled. “Thanks, ask Boyd as well, he’s pretty creative.” 

Kira nodded. “I’ll call them.”

With that, the briefing was over. Kira pulled out her walkie talkie as she walked out and switched it from the general channel to Lydia’s private one. The little buggers were almost as good as mobile phones. A bunch of people in Beacon Hills had come together to help create them and they had proved invaluable.

They all called it a night, heading up to the small, triple story apartment complex that the young people in the pack slept in. Deaton, Coach, Melissa, Argent and his Dad stayed in the house. Everyone had their own room, but more often than not, they all ended up in the main room, draped across each other. Tonight was one of those nights. As usual, almost a dozen mattresses were laid out across the floor. 

Stiles was nestled between Isaac and Lydia. He was spooning Lydia, and Isaac’s head was resting in the crook of his neck. Derek and Scott had border patrol, and Boyd was on watch tower duty, so they were the only ones not there.

At about 2:00AM, Stiles startled awake. He wasn’t the only one. The alarms they’d hung up around the safe zone were going off. It took a few seconds for his mind to recognise the sound. When he did, his stomach sunk. 

Oh, shit.

Him and Lydia locked eyes and spoke at the same time. 

“Hunters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment to guess who's actually together with whom.


End file.
